He was Free
by anafertorres
Summary: A story in which a girl named Ana is intrigued by a man called Leonard Mead. He takes daily night walks and she follows him one night. Everything goes downhill as he is sent to a mental facility. She tries to save him.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own this story line. Idea gotten from "The Pedestrian". Except for a few characters, the plot and characters are all owned by Ray Bradbury.**

"Hello Ms. Ana, we would like to ask a few questions about Mr. Mead" the computer asked

I nodded my head as if it could see me. I was ready to explain everything they needed to know. Whoever they were. He didn't deserve this. Any of it.

"What happened that night?" I was asked once again by this creepy computer

"This is what I remember of that night…

Mr. Mead found himself all alone. The silence was louder than words that night. The empty streets were calling his name, they always did. It was night time, it was his time to be human, his time to be free." I stated, remembering the day I decided to follow him

Humanity has changed a lot since the first man set foot here on earth, to say that technology has taken over would be an understatement. It is disappointing to see how society is all consumed by technology.

"May I ask Ms, how do you know all this?"

" Well that night I decided to follow him, curiosity took over me and you know what they say; "Curiosity killed the cat". I mean look were I ended up" I chuckled taking in my surroundings, the plain white walls that surrounded making me shudder. The clinic was not what I expected it to be. The halls were empty, the walls were white and the only noises that were heard were the cries of patients who were considered a threat to society because of their difference.

Let me explain myself right from the beginning of how I ended up sitting in a big, solitary room while talking to a computer trying to explain Leonard Mead. If that was even possible. I had always been interested in knowing what this man was up to. Every night, at exactly 7 pm, he would walk past my house peeking into every window of every house. He would walk in the worn out concrete looking as if he didn't have control of his body. He was out of it thinking of something greater than any of us could ever even begin to imagine. So, with nothing to lose, I decided to follow him.

Earlier tonight I got home from work at 5 pm. At 5:30 I had my last meal. At 6 I got ready. At 7 I was out the door following this strange man into the darkness of the night. I made sure to walk as quietly as possibly, always 1 block behind.

We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. We never arrived anywhere. That's when it hit me, Mr. Mead had no destination, he was simply taking a walk. A walk. Mr. Mead, the mysterious man that passed by my house ever since I was 15, was just taking a walk for the pleasure of it. As weirded out as I was, I decided to continue, I was amazed by this act. He was so human, he took walks just as people used to back when humanity was still a thing. That night I realized, he was different, he was special, I would even dare to say, he was free. So, we continued walking.

As the streets grew darker and the silence grew louder, we remained walking. This was until a police car approached us, and this time I mean both of us, as if we were together. Leonard Mead was taken immediately by one police officer. The second police officer approached me and escorted me to the car so he could take me to answer some questions since apparently someone had reported him after seeing him walking every night alone.

So there I was, at the Mental Hospital, trying to set Mr. Mead free.

"Were you ever freaked out by him?" It asked

"I would not exactly use the word "freaked". I was intrigued by him. I sill am." I responded truly.

"Would you say he is mad?"

"Mad?" I laughed, "Why would you say that?"

Mr. Mead was not mad. He wasn't.

"Well, he walks through a lonely neighborhood every night with no expectations of arriving anywhere. He is weird to say the least." It said with a repulsive tone, disgusted by the thought of difference

"He thinks for himself if that's what you are saying. He is independent." by his time I was growing irritated by this useless machine

"He is mad Ms. Ana, just accept it."

"HE IS NOT MAD" I yelled desperately

"but he is"

"NO HE IS NOT, HE IS EVERYTHING BUT MAD."

We continued fighting. I will defend Leonard Mead and his actions as long as I live. I wish I were like him. It seemed to go on forever. After a couple minutes we cooled down but still discussing the subject.

"He is not mad" I said more calmly this time , "He is free."

A loud noise was then heard from down the hall were the hospital rooms were found, it was followed by screams from the nurses who rushed into on room 5B. Mr. Mead was dead. He had killed himself.

He deserved better.

A part of myself died with him that night. He had taught me everything there is to know about life in one night without even knowing.

I looked into the camera of the computer emotionless.

"Look at what you've done." I said coldly "You made him go mad."


End file.
